GM Kiora's Wrath of the Righteous

Game Master Kiora Atua

DEFENSE
AC 11 (15), touch 11, flat-footed 10 (14) (+0 Armor/+4 Mage armor, +1 Dex)
Hp 8/8
Fort +3, Ref +1, Will +3

OFFENSE
Melee claws +0 (1d4)
Ranged light crossbow +1 (1d8, 19-20)
Special Attacks claws (Abyssal Bloodline)
Spellcasting 1st level (3/day) – grease, mage armor
0th level (4/day) – daze, detect magic, acid splash, spark

STATISTICS
Str 11, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 17, Wis 12, Cha 14
Base Atk +0, CMB +0, CMD 11
Feats Great Fortitude, Spell Focus (Conjuration), Weapon Proficiency (simple)
Traits Convincing Liar, Riftwarden Orphan
Skills Bluff +7, Knowledge (arcane) +7, Knowledge (planes) +7, Linguistics +7, Lore (History of the Crusades) +7, Profession (scribe) +5, Spellcraft +7, Use Magic Device +7
Languages Common, Draconic, Elven, Dwarven, Abyssal
SQ Arcane reservoir (4/4), Bloodline (abyssal), cantrips, consume spells
Combat Gear: light crossbow, 20 cold iron bolts, Other Gear: traveler’s outfit, backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, flint and steel, ink, inkpen, spell component pouch, torches (10), trail rations (10 days), waterskin, spellbook, 7 gp, 7 sp
Weight carried: 32.5 lbs.

Spellbook
1st-level: color spray, ear-piercing scream, grease, mage armor, protection from evil, summon monster I
0th-level: all

Arcane Reservoir (Su): An arcanist has an innate pool of magical energy that she can draw upon to fuel her arcanist exploits and enhance her spells. The arcanist's arcane reservoir can hold a maximum amount of magical energy equal to 3 + the arcanist's level. Each day, when preparing spells, the arcanist's arcane reservoir fills with raw magical energy, gaining a number of points equal to 3 + 1/2 her arcanist level. Any points she had from the previous day are lost. She can also regain these points through the consume spells class feature and some arcanist exploits. The arcane reservoir can never hold more points than the maximum amount noted above; points gained in excess of this total are lost.

Points from the arcanist reservoir are used to fuel many of the arcanist's powers. In addition, the arcanist can expend 1 point from her arcane reservoir as a free action whenever she casts an arcanist spell. If she does, she can choose to increase the caster level by 1 or increase the spell's DC by 1. She can expend no more than 1 point from her reservoir on a given spell in this way.

Bloodline (Abyssal): A blood arcanist selects one bloodline from those available through the sorcerer bloodline class feature. The blood arcanist gains the bloodline arcana and bloodline powers of that bloodline, treating her arcanist level as her sorcerer level. The blood arcanist does not gain the class skill, bonus feats, or bonus spells from her bloodline.

If the blood arcanist takes levels in another class that grants a bloodline, the bloodlines must be the same type, even if that means that the bloodline of one of her classes must change. Subject to GM discretion, the blood arcanist can change her former bloodline to make them conform.

This ability replaces the arcanist exploits gained at 1st, 3rd, 9th, and 15th levels, as well as magical supremacy. A blood arcanist cannot select the bloodline development arcanist exploit.

Bloodline arcana: Whenever you cast a spell of the summoning subschool, the creatures summoned gain DR/good equal to 1/2 your sorcerer level (minimum 1). This does not stack with any DR the creature might have.

Bloodline power: Claws (Su): At 1st level, you can grow claws as a free action. These claws are treated as natural weapons, allowing you to make two claw attacks as a full attack action using your full base attack bonus. These attacks deal 1d4 points of damage each (1d3 if you are Small) plus your Strength modifier. At 5th level, these claws are considered magic weapons for the purpose of overcoming DR. At 7th level, the damage increases by one step to 1d6 points of damage (1d4 if you are Small). At 11th level, these claws become flaming weapons, each dealing an additional 1d6 points of fire damage on a successful hit. You can use your claws for a number of rounds per day equal to 3 + your Charisma modifier. These rounds do not need to be consecutive.

Cantrips: Arcanists can prepare a number of cantrips, or 0-level spells, each day as noted on Table: Arcanist Spells Prepared. These spells are cast like any other spell, but they do not consume spell slots. As with her other spells, these spells are not expended when cast.

Consume Spells (Su): At 1st level, an arcanist can expend an available arcanist spell slot as a move action, making it unavailable for the rest of the day, just as if she had used it to cast a spell. Doing this adds a number of points to her arcane reservoir equal to the level of the spell slot consumed. She cannot consume cantrips (0 level spells) in this way. Points gained in excess of the reservoir's maximum are lost.

Velys was raised by Nestor Brant, a scribe with some magical training, in the city of Kenabres. Though fond of each other, Nestor has never pretended that Velys is his son, and Velys knows Nestor is not his father. Whenever Velys asked Nestor about the strange birthmark on his right shoulder, Nestor would tell him it was a sign of his parents’ devotion. As Velys grew to adolescence, Nestor would tell him stories of his parents and their battles in the crusades. Nestor also took the time to teach Velys letters and numbers, about the history of the crusades. He especially enjoyed the stories of Khorramzadeh being driven away from Kenabres, and idolized the crusaders. He dreamed of one day fighting beside them against a great demonic horde, as his parents had done. He even dreamed of slaying Khorramzadeh, but he knew that was unlikely. Unfortunately, his personality wasn’t quite that of a crusader’s.

Velys was mischievous. He discovered early on a talent for shading and twisting the truth, and would use these abilities to convince Nestor to let him roam free with other children in Kenabres, regardless of the fact there was a war going on. They would play Crusaders, where some kids played demons and some played crusaders driving them off. Velys, more often than not, would end up a demon, and he would be surprisingly good at it. He was also more than fond of practical jokes, and many were the times other children or Nestor would find themselves pranked.

It was around 12 years old that the odd things began happening. Strange lights and sounds would emanate from his room when he was sleeping, and he began to dream dark dreams, though he could not remember them when he awoke. But, every time he awoke, he would, for just a second, think his hands had been replaced with a demonic-looking claw. He would also, every now and then, hear a voice telling him that he could cause such fun if he just did this one little thing. No one will get hurt, it would say, but to Velys, convincing children to leave the city and play outside the walls near the border of the Worldwound sounded pretty harmful. Though he never acted on the voice’s impulses, it was always there, and he grew to fear it.

Nestor recognized the lights and sounds as a sign that Velys had innate magical abilities, and took it upon himself to teach Velys how to control it and use it to aid the crusaders. Velys himself was an adept pupil, eager to learn and blessed with an innate gift that was only refined with further training. After all, if he honed his abilities, he would be able to fight beside the crusaders. Velys was a fast learner, and, when he was 15, Nestor felt he was ready to attempt summoning a creature. In preparation for this, Velys studied the incantation that would strengthen the creature’s ties to the plane of good, for creatures aligned with that plane would have the best chance to defeat their demonic enemies. The day of his first attempt, he began weaving the spell and saying the words of power, and then something peculiar happened. His hands moved left when they should have moved right, and he said one word when he should have said another, and instead of a celestial field mouse, a fiendish one appeared. Though it vanished quickly, as Velys could not maintain its connection for long, the appearance was startling to both Nestor and Velys.

Nestor was troubled, for he hadn’t taught Velys the incantation for summoning creatures of the lower planes. Velys was troubled, because he hadn’t consciously summoned such a creature. His hands and voice had acted of their own accord. And that voice in his head was saying, Now, wasn’t that fun? We could summon something even bigger, if you wanted to.

Over the next few years, Velys continued his studies, but with much more reticence than before. Nestor also moved more cautiously, for fear of accidentally teaching Velys magic that would lead him down the wrong path. In his next summoning attempt, he summoned a celestial creature, and several other celestial creatures after, before his hands and voice again betrayed him and summoned a fiendish creature. This one, Velys dismissed immediately, for he knew how to do so now, but he was deeply concerned about these fiendish impulses that seemed to push through. Nestor was just as concerned.

Now, as Armasse approaches, Velys has grown uneasy. His dreams have taken on an almost excited feel, and he has discovered that the claws were no vestige of the dream or sleep, but in fact his hands were actually changing to demonic claws. The voice in his head continually says, We’ll be able to have so much fun when the party comes. Revel in it, and you will be rewarded. He doesn’t know what it means, but it frightens him greatly. He still desires to fight with the crusaders and vanquish the demons, but he worries there is a curse upon him – one that will eventually destroy him.

Li'an is a typically lithe, pale-skinned elf with silvery eyes. She tends to wear simple clothing with muted colors along with her leather armor most of the time. Once or twice a year, during major festivals, she will allow herself the pleasure of wearing something more colorful, although still nothing quite so impractical as a dress.

She shares her father's more gregarious (for an elf, anyway) nature, especially after the events during the fourth crusade. She works hard to do what she can to aid others and seemingly never offers complaint. When unobserved a deep sense of sorrow can be seen in her eyes.

In recent years she's begun to develop a love of reading and writing epic poems, very likely due to the spark she acquired from Lleuad. She hopes one day to set down the tale of Elan Va'ardalia and Lleuad-a'r-Sêr on paper, that they might live on beyond her.

Reason for Fighting
Put simply, Atonement. Li'an's mistake cost the lives of her father and Lleuad-a'r-Sêr, her father's life taken by her own hand while dominated. In exchange for saving her life, Lleuad demanded that she pledge to take up their fight until her last breath.

Why Mythic?
The blade Lleuad-a'r-Sêr, a bronze short blade covered in elven runes, sealed the soul of a powerful Raelis Azata whose form had been destroyed in a battle against Minagho in the first crusade. During the fourth crusade, Li'an plunged the blade into herself after having been dominated into killing her father, the blade sacrificed itself to save her, imbuing her with the remnant of its divine spark, breaking her captor's hold on her and getting her to safety.

Home
Li'an was born in the elven capital of Iadara, but barely has any memories of it. Her mother died shortly after her birth, and Li'an's time there was spent in the care of her mother's sisters until she was old enough to leave with her father. Afterwards, while she travelled the inner sea extensively at her father's side, though she spent a majority of her life in Kenabres while her father fought in the crusades.

Class and Weapon
Rogue through innate talent primarily. Though he'd trained her to follow in his footsteps as a Magus, she'd always been quite talented at sneaking around and dangerously precise in her swordplay. In the decade or so after his death she didn't have it in her to continue her training in magic, and instead trained to offer her services as a scout to the crusaders.

Her blade, Lleuad-a'r-Sêr, belonged to her father before her. While she is unaware of it, Lleuad-a'r-Sêr was once a powerful Raelis Azata who had travelled the world with her father extensively. Her form destroyed in a battle with a powerful demon, Elan attempted to save her with a wish, but ended up sealing her essence within his blade instead. She wields it not only because it was her father's, but also due to the oath she made to Lleuad-a'r-Sêr when it saved her. After her return to Kenabres, she has formed a close bond with the weapon despite its silence. She considers Lleuad her only remaining family and often confides in it. She keeps the blade close at all times and would likely be quite traumatized were she to lose the last link to that portion of her life.

Religion
Her worship of Desna is more an artifact of her father's love of the goddess of travel than her own devotion. While she shared her father's sense of wanderlust to some extent, the events of the fourth crusade have made it clear she'll spend the remainder of her days near Kenabres.

Alignment (Chaotic Good) Due to her loss and the oath she swore, she feels her highest duty is to use all her abilities to continue their fight to protect others from the blight of the worldwound. She inherited her father's free spirit and recklessness, however, and rapidly grows tired of the constraints imposed by those with a more lawful worldview.

Oath/Code
To fight against the forces of the worldwound to her dying breath. She views this as an admonition to live and fight to protect her adopted city at all costs. Doing so, however, does not mean recklessly throwing away her life. The cost of her

Story
Li'an gathered her things to head out. Her father had left Kenabres shortly, heading off into the worldwound to investigate reports of cultists operating in an abandoned village. He still refused to take her out despite the fact she was perfectly capable of defending herself. "You're not ready, keep studying your books and show me you can cast, we'll talk then," he would say to her. She shook her head in frustration. She would tail him out of town and into the worldwound and join him when it was too far out for him to say 'no' again.It all sounded like a reasonable plan to Li'an. She had more than enough supplies to last a week in the wilderness, and she'd snuck peaks at her father's maps, duplicating them so she'd know which way to go.

The trip was uneventful until the second day out. They were travelling through a densely wooded area when she heard a warning cry from her father's hawk familiar. In a matter of moments Elan had vanished, having cast a spell she suspected was invisibility, although she'd still not gotten adept enough to identify spells as they were cast yet. With her father gone, she immediately began scouting out a good hiding place. Between looking for a hiding place and trying to keep an eye on her father's familiar she didn't hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.

When she awoke, she was chained to a wall inside a small cell. Standing before her was a gaunt man wearing a set of ornate black robes. He smiled at her and then spoke. "Welcome! We don't get too many visitors out here. You'll have to forgive the poor hospitality, as the few we do get tend to be intent on killing us. Might I get your name my fair elven lass?" Li'an shook her head and remained silent, wondering if she'd really been this stupid.

"That won't do at all... you should really answer when your host asks a simple question. Lets try this again," the man said as he began to make arcane gestures. "Li'an Va'ardalia..." escaped from Li'an's lips before she knew what had happened. She felt as if she was being pushed out of her own mind somehow, reduced to merely watching as her body acted on its own.

The man put his hands together and grinned. "See? That wasn't so hard, now was it? You're the daughter of Elan, that elven magus who has been giving us trouble for ages, what a treat! He doesn't know you're here does he?"

"No, I followed him out here," she answered without hesitation.

"Oh my! This will be quite a surprise then, won't it? Come, we must prepare a warm welcome for him. The look on his face should be priceless..." The man gestured at the manacles and they fell open, leaving her free. She willed herself to run for the door, but instead she bowed and then followed obediently behind her captor.

Whether he had been summoned by the black-robed mage or had found this location on his own Li'an never knew, but within a few hours she heard cries of alarm and the sounds of fighting and spellcasting out in the old square of the town. She'd heard stories about her father's recklessness, but it still surprised her that he was enaged in a frontal assault on the cultist's base by himself. As the fighting neared, two of the cultists grabbed her by the arms and she felt a command echo through her head "Resist them with all your might, little girl. Put on an act that Elan will never forget!"

She fought and kicked as the two cultists dragged her out into the square, where her father waited, his bronze blade drawn and blazing with arcane energy. "Li'an! How?" he cried out, a look of despair on his face. In her mind she screamed, but the puppet that was her body fell to her knees weeping, responding only with "I'm so sorry...".

"Elan, so good of you to come! Who knew we'd have the pleasure of hosting a touching family reunion here." the head cultist taunted. "Of course I can't just hand her over you know, that would hardly be fair as we've had to provide her with food and board while she waited for you to rescue her. I believe that blade should about cover it," he added, revelling in his final victory over his foe.

Elan sighed and looked at his blade. He paused, contemplating it long enough for Li'an to wonder if he would really trade that blade for her life. After what seemed like an eternity he raised his head and answered the mage. "Very well," he said as he sheathed the blade and tossed it to the earth ahead of him, quickly drawing a spare dagger he kept in reserve. "Let her go," he said as the sheathed blade hit the ground.

The cultists released Li'an and she ran to her father as he beckoned. She crashed into him, throwing her arms around him as he took her in one arm. "It's ok now Li'an, it's over." he said reassuringly as he looked down at her. "Yes, father, it is over..." she responded flatly as she slid out the dagger she'd hidden up her sleeve and slid it through a gap in his leather armor, puncturing his kidney. While the wound was serious, it wasn't enough to kill him, but as he staggered back in shock, the cultists were able to disarm and restrain him.

"How terrible! What kind of father are you to be betrayed by your own daughter? It's quite sad really." the man in black taunted. "Li'an, be a dear and pick up that blade, won't you?" he said, gesturing to the sheathed weapon. "We really should give it back to your father, no? I bet he'd appreciate that greatly.

The look of horror on Elan's face as Li'an approached with the blade unsheathed would be forever burned into her mind. As she plunged the blade through his chest, killing him, she could feel the mage's delight, a sensation so cruel and remorseless it she wondered if he had any humanity in him at all. "Tell me, girl, how does it feel to be responsible for your father's death?" the man said to her, releasing his hold on her mind as he did.

All she could do in response was collapse to her knees, screaming. In the midst of her agony a new voice came to her mind, familiarly soothing, yet stern. "Li'an Va'ardalia, listen to me and act quickly child. You must do what I say while he has relinquished control of you." it said in a commanding tone. "I will save you here, for it was the final wish of your father, to whom I owe my very existance. I will ask two things of you, however, the first is that you swear an oath to devote the remainder of your life to continuing the fight Elan and I have fought since my fall in Sarkoris during the First Crusade. You will fight to end the blight that is the worldwound to your dying breath."

Li'an looked down at the blade, realizing the voice in her mind was somehow originating within it. The oath the blade had requested carried a weight with it she could feel. Still, what choice did she have? If this was all a nightmare, it wouldn't matter in the end, and if it wasn't she was very likely going to die here. "I will do it, I swear here before my father that I will continue his fight, and yours until the day I die."

"Very well child, the second thing I shall ask of you is that you plunge me into your heart..."

The mage looked on the scene with great pleasure. He'd truly outdone himself this time, what great fortune he'd had to stumble upon the girl while he was attempting to scry on her father. Now Elan was dead, and he'd be able to present his body and that accursed blade to his own patron. I can taste the power already, perhaps I'll even be granted the power to abandon this putrid human form for something more befitting my status, he thought.

Letting her free of the domination momentarily was an exquisite torture, he thought, relishing her screams as she collapsed over her father's corpse. I should remember to bring her when I go to Raliscrad, Minagho would pay handsomely for the opportunity to break... He was interrupted mid thought by the sight of his prisoner attempting to commit suicide. He laughed loudly and applauded the show as she drove the blade into her chest. "Get that blade out of the girl and see that she's healed immediately," he called out to the guards.

The guards, however, never got the chance. The girl, hilt of the blade protruding from her chest and her eyes blazing with white light, stood and traced a single rune in the air. " नींद " the girl commanded in a voice not her own, and the guards all collapsed to the ground. Even the black-robed man felt his conciousness beginning to slip away as the symbol burned itself into his mind. Somehow he'd been forced out of the girl's mind completely, the domination broken by whatever it was that possessed her now. "No... My prize..." he thought as he joined his guards in their slumber.

Moments later Li'an was in a clearing she didn't recognize. Her body still burned with the energy released from the blade, although she collapsed to one knee immediately. "Time is short now, child, the last of me fades" the voice spoke aloud as it kneeled and began to trace a symbol into the ground. "Forever remeber the oath you swore to Lleuad-a'r-Ser, and the price she and your father paid for your life, little one." it added as it grasped the hilt of the blade and pulled it out of her chest. The blade fell to the ground with a dull thud, and Li'an felt the last of the energy leave her. A final thought echoed through her mind, "know that your father forgives you child, as do I...". The last thing she remembered was a flash of green coming from the symbol beneath her as she passed out.

She awoke days later in the hospital ward of the temple of Iomedae in Kenabres. She'd been found by a patrol atop the remnants of some sort of healing glyph, and alongside her ornate, but otherwise mundane blade.

Init +3; Senses low-light vision; Perception +6

Defense
AC 16, Touch 13, Flat-footed 13 [3 armor + 3 dex]
HP 7/7
Fort -1, Ref +5, Will +0 Mods +2 sv vs. Enchantments
Immunities sleep

Offense
Speed 30 ft.

Melee Lleuad-a'r-Ser +4 (1d6, 19-20/x2)
Mods Arcane Strike (+1 dam)

Special Attacks Sneak Attack +1d6
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.

Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1):
1/day -- comprehend languages, read magic, detect magic, detect poison

Statistics
Str 10, Dex 17, Con 9, Int 15, Wis 11, Cha 12
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 13

Feats Weapon Finesse (class), Arcane Strike
Racial Traits Envoy
Traits Classically Schooled, Oathbound, Signature Moves(Lleuad-a'r-Ser)
Drawbacks Attached (Lleuad-a'r-Ser)
Skills Acrobatics +7, Appraise +2, Artistry(Epics) +5, Bluff +5, Diplomacy +1, Know(Local) +6, Linguistics +6, Perception +6, Sleight of Hand +7, Spellcraft +7, Stealth +7, Use Magic Device +5 Racial Modifiers +2 Perception
Languages Common, Elven; (int) Sylvan, Draconic; (lng) Celestial
SQ
Limited Use

Combat Gear Lleuad-a'r-Ser, Studded Leather Armor
Other Gear Rogue's Kit, Traveller's Spellbook, Journal, Ink & Quill
Treasure None

Special Abilities (Race)
Elven Immunities: Immune to sleep, +2 sv vs enchantment spells or effects
Envoy: Cast read magic, detect magic, detect poison, and comprehend languages once per day.
Weapon Familiarity: Trained with Longbow, Shortbow, Longsword, Shortsword, treats "elven" weapons as martial.

Special Abilities (Rogue)
Finesse Training: Gain Weapon Finesse as Bonus Feat
Trapfinding: +1 to disable device, +0 to perception to spot traps.

Gear Abilities

Attacks
Melee Lleuad-a'r-Ser (MW Short Sword) [+4 (+0 BAB + 3 dex + 1 enh; 1d6, 19-20/x2]

Favored Class (Rogue)

1: +1 skill

Gold & Encumberance
Starting: 140gp
Spent: 103gp
Studded Leather [25 gp; 20 lbs]
Lleuad-a'r-Ser (MW Shortsword) [free, Signature Moves; 2 lbs]
Rogue's Kit [50gp; 37 lbs]
Spellbook, Travelling [10 gp; 1 lb]
Book, Journal [10gp; 1 lb]
Ink & Quill [8 gp; 0 lbs]
Remaining: 37gp

Nagaji are known for being willing slaves to their creators, the Naga. They tend to view eternal servitude as their purpose in life. Why is Sarhashil different?

Sarhashil would view them and what they do as rather silly, he did not grow up under the thumb of his "gods" as it were. He was but a child, one who would have aspired to being a druid for his village if not plucked at an early age by slavers, when he was taken from that particular type of slavery and put into what he considers true slavery. The naga don't dictate your every waking moment, who you breed with, who you fight beside, when you eat...no those things are for peons living under the yoke of a king, a true slave gets to choose nothing in life, save for when he dies.

How does he view other Nagaji?
Simply put, they are misguided souls who weren't lucky enough to be lost from their master so that they could grow up. He feels that they live under a false god, after all gods do not walk among you and get slaughtered with you. A true god you may never see but if you do have the pleasure of being touched by them, you will never forget it and will never be the same. Nagaji are very simple minded, but the naga are to blame for that. Perhaps one day, with enough power or perhaps with enough comrades he may well try to hunt to extinction those "gods" that keep the Nagaji from true greatness and enlightenment.

Has he even met others of his kind?
He was old enough to remember them vaguely though he was also fortunate enough to encounter another in the arena. The new, older Nagaji had been caught by the slavers and put in similar confinements nearby. He saw how the man weeped for his gods to save him from this hell, how he cried for his brood, and even later how he died for his lack of conviction as his blood dripped from Sarhashil's own maw. They are at this moment lesser to him but given time they can be more.